Between Waking and Sleep
by Mooncombo
Summary: She is close to sleep. Close to that point between waking and sleep when he could probe at wounds and dark secrets and she just might answer him honestly. Follows Patriot Down. Rated M, but not overly graphic.


Disclaimer: They do not belong to me.

Takes place following Patriot Down. For this story to work in my head, Obsession didn't happen. I started the story months ago and decided to pull it off of the shelf, blow off the dust and polish it up a bit. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Never one for subtle opposition, Tony is reclining against the side of her car door when she attempts to steal away from the office undetected. Gibbs has granted a rare but certainly welcome respite from their case with orders to report back to the office in six - no more, no less - hours so that they may eat, shower and sleep. Ziva plans on not eating, possibly showering and most definitely sleeping.

Eyes narrowing into slits, Ziva immediately begins constructing a mental list of all of the ways she can kill him with the few items stowed in her purse. That is, of course, until she notices that Tony is currently tossing her weapon of choice up in the air and catching it.

Toss and catch.

Up and down.

Keys. _Her _keys to be exact.

Damn it. He has stolen her keys.

Again.

Too exhausted to play the worthy opponent in one of their typical verbal sparring matches, she lets her mouth hang open while her eyes follow the ascent and descent of the jingling keys.

"Did you torture and castrate someone from your past, Ziva? Or were you referencing your secret post-Somalia bucket list?" he throws out nonchalantly, still rhythmically tossing and catching.

The keys come to rest in his hand and the exhaust perfumed air of the garage becomes thick and threatens to suffocate her increasingly shallow breaths.

After a brief staring contest in which neither of them is the victor, Tony says softly, "Get in the car."

Good soldier that she is, she follows his order.

* * *

The glare of the setting sun bounces off of the windshield, blinding and burning Ziva's eyes behind her sun glasses causing them to water. At least that is what she tells Tony when he asks her if she is crying.

He doesn't believe her, but he does not push her farther.

Maybe that is why she lets him hold her hand as he drives them to his apartment.

* * *

Tony does not enjoy breakfast food in the morning. Breakfast food, in his humble opinion, tastes better at night. He explains this concept to Ziva who, by contrast doesn't think that breakfast comfort food should be served at any time of the day - not even pancakes. And especially not pancakes with chocolate chips.

Set on proving the error of Ziva's ways, Tony rummages through his surprisingly (for a bachelor) well stocked cabinets to find the necessary ingredients to soothe away the discomfort of the day via carb and sugar overload.

He does not have the right ingredients or culinary talent to produce flan, so he will stick with pancakes from a box. He even has chocolate chips.

Maintaining a steady stream of chatter while he works on his masterpiece, he tells her colorful stories of Abby, Gibbs and McGee and possibly a scenario involving a UFO and a stripper, but Ziva is only half paying attention to his incessant soundtrack.

"…you can't even imagine it, Ziva, McGee was so freaked out of his mind that…"

"You do not have to do this, Tony," she interrupts smoothly.

He turns and faces her, a box of Bisquick in one hand and a frying pan in the other.

"I'm making dinner for you. Technically, it is breakfast because I am making pancakes but since it is dinner time-"

"_That_. You do not have to try to distract me. It will not work anyway," she informs him with a soft tone and a slight smile. "But I do appreciate your efforts."

He grows serious and intense in a way that scares her, but more importantly has earned her trust and respect in the last few months. His voice is very soft, very sincere and so very gentle when he asks her the question for a second time.

"Did something happen in the past, Ziva, or were you referring to Somalia?"

"Both."

The silence is thick and potent, but not quite uncomfortable and that thought alone causes each of them to pause.

Because this type of intimacy far surpasses that of the physical intimacy they have known with each other in the past.

Old habits die hard, though, and Ziva jumps up from the table to pick up where Tony left off making their breakfast-dinner.

After all is said and done, Ziva has to admit that chocolate chip pancakes for dinner are pretty fantastic.

* * *

For a girl that grew up in the desert, Ziva loves the water. She loves to swim, loves the ocean, and loves baths. More importantly, she loves taking incredibly hot and incredibly long showers.

And Tony is looking forward to sharing one with her.

After all traces of dinner have been wiped clean, he leads her to the bathroom and undresses her. She makes no attempt to assist, instead enjoys the feel of his rough hands scraping against her weary body.

She stands before him in all of her naked glory, scars and all. He leans down and presses a quick kiss along the side of her breast and ushers her into the shower before he changes his vow to be a gentleman and takes her there on the bathroom counter.

He makes quick work of shedding his own clothes and joining her under the steamy spray of water.

It strikes him then just how close they have become. This thing, whatever they might call it, this _thing _that was happening between them was real. And somehow it didn't feel scary.

She leans against him as he rinses suds from her hair, her head falling back against his chest and her eyes closing peacefully as his hands roam freely across her marred skin. She feels his body begin to respond, twitching slightly against the small of her back.

Turning slowly to face him, she slips her fingers along his hardening length allowing her thumbs to brush back and forth against the tip.

"Do you really want to do this, Ziva?"

"Clearly, _you _do," she says lightly, a hint of a teasing smirk appearing on her face.

He grins wolfishly at her.

"I'm a _guy_. My body is _always_ going to react to a hot naked girl in the shower with me," he teases her.

But recent events haunt and dance around the periphery, reminding him to tread lightly and carefully. His hand rests atop hers to still her movement on his growing erection. His smile fades and he grows serious once more.

"Do you _want _to do this?" He asks her again, searching her face for resistance.

"Yes," she breathes against his mouth, "I want this."

He believes her.

Sandwiched between his body and the cool, slick tiles, he hikes her leg up around his waist and sinks himself fully inside of her body.

Head back, she watches him intently through slitted drowsy eyes as he pins her body against the wall and strokes deeply and smoothly.

And still she watches him and he watches her until she shudders against him and her muscles clench along his length.

The water rains down over their sated bodies, soothing and calming.

"Tony," she whispers, her head resting against his chest, "it happened when I was in the military."

* * *

Candles serve as efficient night lights.

She would never admit it, never tell anyone that the oppressive inky blackness of night scratched at her nerves and frayed them until her heart pounded in her chest and her breath caught in her throat.

The flickering glow of the single flame protectively engulfed her as she fell asleep every night, chasing away the shadows that might ensnare and attack.

Ziva David does not need a night light.

Tony accepts her mood lighting for exactly what it is and doesn't question when she brings a candle to reside on his nightstand, too.

Still wrapped in a towel, she dozes against the solid, protective warmth of his body. Damp dark curls tickle his arm as his fingers sift through the strands, the calm motion lulling her further and beckoning her to slumber. Her body grows soft and pliant in a way that tells him she is close to sleep. Close to that point between waking and sleep when he could probe at wounds and dark secrets and she just might answer him honestly.

Her eyelashes flutter against his chest as she sinks deeper.

Just as he opens his mouth to ask, she answers.

"No, I did not torture them. And I did not castrate them," she murmurs, her warm lips brushing his cool skin as she spoke.

His arms tighten protectively around her small frame.

* * *

Towels do not make sensible pajamas which is just fine with Tony. Ziva's naked body huddles tightly against his own, her leg thrown across both of his so that his thigh is pressed snugly against her wet heat. He is not fully awake as Ziva slides her body atop his, his cock jumping and twitching as she grinds herself against him.

She doesn't object has he takes the reins for the second time this evening and rolls her pliant body beneath his own, gently rocking within her, hardly moving but savoring the intoxication of being sheathed perfectly within her.

It is sweet and powerful and this time she does cry, silent tears clogging her throat and burning her eyes. He stills, their bodies still joined, and tells her just how much he cares for her.

* * *

The moment between waking and sleep can also be the most dangerous.

She rolls away from the enticing warmth nestled behind her limber body sometime in the early dark hours of morning to twist onto her back. Reaching her arms above her head, she stretches her body feeling the muscles elongate and pull.

His arm is slung low across her belly - heavy , protective and thick. She moves once more, causing his fingers slide dangerously along the smooth skin at the apex of her thighs.

Her own hand snaps to life, striking out like a rattlesnake to clamp around his wrist nearly crushing the bones joining his hand with the rest of his body.

He does not move and neither does she.

His voice pulls her through the depths of sleep and she retreats from her attack, waving a white flag and surrendering to his protective embrace.

Tony supposes that this is an improvement. The last time she nearly broke his nose.

* * *

Ziva thinks that maybe she should take a more in depth interest in breakfast.

Tony wakes her the next morning by brushing his thumb lightly across her nipple until she groans and arches sinuously against the smooth sheets cooled by the morning air. He is fully dressed but eases the sleeping beauty in his bed into a semi-conscious state with skilled hands until she shudders and shakes and comes apart with a whimper.

"C'mon, we have enough time to stop for coffee before we go in," he announces, placing a smacking kiss against the corner of her mouth.

* * *

There's something to be said for promptness.

Unless, of course, the boss is waiting for their return.

Ziva and Tony return to the bull pen in exactly six hours. Gibbs sends Ziva off on an imaginary errand to Abby's lab leaving Tony and Gibbs alone.

"The next time you go home with your partner, Tony, don't be so stupid as to leave your car here."

Tony has the good sense to at least appear properly chastised.

"Now get to work."


End file.
